A short one

Go to the next post if you haven't been here for a bit. This is just a shorty, quickie, a toss in the sock. Tomorrow is a big day, my first day of chemo. I know that I will feel sick after, but I am happy that it will heal me. I am a strong man. Nothing is going to get me down. I am taking my portable DVD player with me and I will be watching two movies: "The Queen" and "In Like Flint". I thought of bringing "The Hill Trilogy", a little Spaghetti Western action there. Anyway, there will be plenty of time to sit and watch the paint dry this time because I will be taking my chemo in my arm until my line is surgically implanted.

Oh, and by the way, I have secured my progeny. I am now paying rent for their little cabin up in Siberia. I am hoping that I can now claim "dependents" on my income tax this year. Is it too early to set up a college fund for my "kids"?

As you were.

Tag, I'm it!

I don't play tag that often. My way of blogging gets a bit thrown off by doing memes and games like this. However, when some of my most favorite pixel pals decides to give me a slap on the ass, I respond with a happy face, albeit a bit blush. Such a pal has tagged me. That pal is Sun Follower.

Well, I've got Christmas cards from her, so I know she really exists. I'm not so sure about all you other people. You still might be figments of my overactive imagination--an imagination that I fuel with Pixie Sticks and cough syrup. It's my anti-drug. Not surprisingly, I tend to wake up naked in the Zoo covered in animal blood every so often. I know the caretaker there. She kind of covers for me.

On with the shoe!

The rulz:

"Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog," Are you popping a stiff one and/or ovary yet? Good.

1. I pick up pennies off of the ground no matter where I am or how disgusting they may be. If a dog ate a penny and crapped it out, I'd be obsessing about the shiny copper piece stuck in the hairy, corn infested butt sausage all day long. My freakin' luck is at stake, fer crying out loud!

2. Once I get behind the wheel of a car I turn into Evil Goofy. If you haven't seen that Driver's Education video, produced by Disney, then too bad. I'm not explaining it for you.

3. I can grow an awesome beard so long as it doesn't require side burns. What in the hell is wrong with me that I can't grow some damn mutton chops?

4. I spent the afternoon and evening of last Saturday with a fellow blogger, a Grunt regular. Guess who it was.

5. I tend to give into superstitious behavior when I really want something bad. Somehow, the rituals that I go through during this time tend to calm me down and I feel in control of a situation that I might have no real control of. In other words, despite having a Bachelor's of Science in Psychology, I don't do shit about this problem. You know what, I don't care either.

6. I have had dreams where I've done Princess Leia's hair. I'm not talking about styling her hair here, but it does involve some hair dressing. Move over Paul Newman!

7. I am always nervously tapping my feet, hands, you name it. I chew anything plastic as well. I straightened out all the business cards today at a receptionist's desk. It's alright. I mean, I only do it for a hobby.

8. Here's a fact about me: I am nice, very nice, but only to a point. Today a tech dude at work overheard a conversation that I was having with a girl about my current health woes and how during all of this my truck is in need of some repairs. Here's what "Mr. Tact" Eugene Axehandleass butt in and said, "The reason your truck sucks is because it's a Dodge, eheheheheheheheh!" Well, I decided that I wasn't going to be nice today; no, not to him. I proceeded to enlighten him thusly, "I drive a Chevy and thanks for ruining my conversation with my friend here." Actually, that would have been the nice way. What really happened was I told him to "go home, douche bag!"

Okay, here's who I tag:
Kayla, because she just had a birthday.
Queu_t, because she is my most dedicated lurker ever.
Serena Joy, because she visits me on occasion and I want her to keep visiting me. But now that I've gone and tagged her she might be sore with me. Please don't go, Serena!
Crystal, because she is about to go on vacation and this will piss her off.
Logo, because she likes to pull my leg and boss me around. I totally let her too.
Clearlykels, because she is ridiculous and humors me by responding so nicely to the odd emails that I've sent her here and there. Oh, and she has a tattoo.
Celeste, because she takes pictures of stuff that pleases my eye. My eyes like to be pleased. Also, did I mention that she kicks ass?
Cora, because her and her husband really have been good friends to me beyond blogging.

If you feel left out it's just because it is late and I only had to do eight. I also picked all girls, and would have love to pick some more, because tag is more fun when you get to chase girls around. It just is.

Okay, go ahead and do it if you feel left out.

Post Toasties

Zebras are stylish, with their striped coats and all. I wonder if the hyenas secretly feel insecure about this.

I've been drinking a special tea that looks and tastes like pond scum. It is wonderful for my immune system, but it is what I imagined felching would be like. Maybe I should try drinking it out of a....or maybe not. Jeez, I cannot believe I almost went there.

Am I the only one that dreams up sexy back stories and love affairs between the Tapatio picante sauce man and the Cholula lady? I think that this should be the subject of a future post. I can't stop thinking how great their offspring would taste on my chorizo con huevos. Did I mention that my brother is Mexican? I still think it was the irrigation man and not the neighbor's pool boy.

Oh, to be out at sea peeing off the side of a boat onto a smiling dolphin. It's been one of those days, sorry. Well, maybe not bad, per se. It's probably more accurate to say that I'd be peeing on a somewhat emotionless sea creature of random choosing. There, I hope that one is less upsetting for you.

I have found that new pillows need a period of time to break in. What you do to get it to the desired state is totally your own business, perverts.

In the wild, ants can be a good source of protein. However, one must note that they are to be taken orally and not up the urethra. Oh, and please don't shove that termite infested stick up your ass either. Fetch...what am I, your mother?

When shaking a black person's hand it is important to note that not all black persons like doing "jive" handshakes. That black person's name is Sydney Poitier. He is a "black" actor, just in case you still need help perpetuating the differences in humankind. I am rooting for the Inuit next Oscars. The Inuit are like Mexicans, except colder.

The End?

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): Blazing Saddles (featuring health update)

I honestly don't know what it is about this movie that makes it TIGF!!! This is, of course, TIGF in a good way. We all know that TIGF is capable of swinging any way at any given time. A day's sexual orientation is a tad different. On TIGF we celebrate the good, bad, and the trashy. Ok, enough of the tutorial. You new Gruntonians will catch on soon enough.

One of my sisters told me that the one common denominator with all the gay men she has known was that they all loved the movie Blazing Saddles. When she told me this I said that it was one of my favorite movies ever. After this she proceeded to inquire about my sexual orientation further. Apparently, I passed her test: I came out hetero--not that there's anything wrong with that.

A-har-har!

So, what does it mean that I like the odd Cher tune and own a copy of Blazing Saddles on DVD? Oh baby, you just shut yo mouth; it's just TIGF!!!


(Grunt Health Update):

Okay, my doctor proclaimed me a Stage 2B Hodgkin's Lymphoma. There are four stages total for this type of cancer. This is relieving because it means that I am just under having been in an advanced stage. My chances of recovery are outstanding. However, we are still waiting for the bone marrow biopsy pathology report to come through. That will change my prognosis if it comes out positive for cancer. The chances of that happening are 5%.

I found out some good things about my general health as well. I had a pulmonary function test and I came out 125% of normal. My blood pressure is 112/78. So, despite having a life threatening disease, I am extremely healthy. A bit of an irony there, I suppose, but it will make my fight easier.

My chemo starts Wednesday. I had two chemo plans to choose from: Stanford Five, and the AB-VD. The Stanford Five involves five chemicals given intravenously once a week for three months. It would render me unable to work. The AB-VD involves four chemicals given intravenously once every other week for six months. I would be able to work a modified schedule with this treatment plan. I opted for the AB-VD plan, so I am looking to the end of January, 2008 as my finish line. The doctors are still deciding whether I need radiation treatment as well.

The risks of these treatments is sterility. Therefore, I am getting some of my boys frozen as an insurance policy. Isn't all of this just so fun?

I have one minor surgical procedure left. I am getting one of those lines put into my neck/shoulder area so that the pain of needles and damaging my veins will be eliminated. I can't remember the name of device, but it is the one that sits under the skin and does not hang out of my body. This also reduces the pain involved with the chemo entering the body and reduces the treatment time considerably. My insurance probably will give me a hard time about this one. Fuckers.

I am already having issues with my damned insurance company. The fuckers sent me an "adjusted" deductible for my CAT scan. Well, let's see, the CAT Scan cost a little over $800. I paid a $500 deductible then 10% of the total cost of the scan. I just got a bill for $160. This is the adjustment that my insurance company felt was necessary to keep their profits high and my stress level as well. Fuckers. Fuckers. Fuckers. Lets' do the math, folks! Hmmn...500+81+160=741. The insurance company essentially paid $69. Supposedly, that deductible now covers all the other major tests that I've had and the insurance company will pay 90%. We'll see. I still have two biopsies, a PET scan, x-rays, and a pulmonary function test, that while authorized by the insurance company, payment is not guaranteed. Fuckers^10.

Insurance companies are always there for you when you don't need them. But hey, what are you going to do, USA? It must be real nice to be on the receiving end of this racket. All of you foreign nations: let us fix your country and take care of your people--look how we take care of our own!

Somewhere, a CEO just popped a boner.

(Update on update: I straightened things out with my insurance company and all these deductibles are going toward a $1,000 out of pocket maximum. Supposedly, any other major diagnostic, procedure, or IV medicine will be covered 100% after that maximum is met--for this contract year. I am still keeping my eye on them, though.)

Slowly coming to

Hey everybody! (Hey, doctor Nik!)

I will do a combined TIGF/Update post for tomorrow, but today is just an announcement that I am taking it easy for now and won't be getting around to see all of you just yet. I will, though, so don't think I've gone all diva on y'all.

I do want to say that the new well wishers and readers have really given me a boost. I used to be a mighty blogger, involved in expanding readership and such. I then settled for my little niche and my regulars kept me company enough. Looks like I'm now going to have to put some more logs on the fire. It will be good times.

As for my faithful, you guys are the best!

I drink milk for strong bones!

Today was my first day at the H. Cancer Institute. I used an abbreviation because I don't want people searching for that place to get lost here. Anyway, I had to go for a bone marrow biopsy so the doctors can see if my cancer has spread into my bones.

Well, my level of anxiety was high upon entering this place. This is the first time during this ordeal that I have been around a lot of seriously ill people. These little realizations keep coming and this time it was that, yes, I am one of these really sick people. I didn't get used to it today but I imagine that it won't be too long before I will accept it and feel somewhat at ease.

Anyone that has had a bone marrow biopsy will know what I'm talking about when I say that it is an experience that is painful at times, really uncomfortable, and while not horrific it is not something that you'd want to repeat experience of. That is just an unnatural sensation: having your bone drilled into while you are conscious. You can feel the vibrations throughout your bones as the doctor slowly drills through it.

The most pain I felt was the shot to deaden the bone. The other pain was more of "What in the hell just happened there" kind of pressure and anticipation of things going really wrong. It was painful but nothing compared to having a nerve get clamped by an over zealous doctor taking a lymph node out of you.

The bone marrow doctor dude took three samples of the serum in my marrow and the fun part: a core sample. Why was it so fun? Well, he bent both of the huge core needles trying to get a sample from my right hip (the flat spot where your back meets the top of your butt cheek). The doc has to screw in this big needle that is a tad larger than a knitting needle in circumference right into the marrow to get the core sample. To get the core sample out the doc then has to manipulate the needle by forcing it around until the sample breaks free. The doctor can then pull out the needle and retrieve the core sample. Easy right?

Well, this doctor did not take into account my superman like bones. He bent the hell out of the first needle and lost the core sample. He was amazed and told me that while he's heard of this happening it is really rare and then mostly due to poor technique by the doc. This was the first time it had ever happened to him. He did in fact say that my bones were the strongest that he's ever had to deal with, other than trying to get through calcified crap. The second go around was just lovely. The doc was determined not to lose this core sample this time and I was praying to not have to go through the torture again. He really bent the hell out of this needle but this time the doc finally got the sample.

He showed me the needles afterward and explained that most bone will give way before the needle will. When he asked me in jest about how I got such strong bones I just told him I just drank my milk was all. That and never having worked a job that didn't involve hard labor. He confirmed these two points matter of factly after all the joking was over.

So, if you want to have strong bones, go ahead and drink some milk and become a beast of burden. Your bones will be strong as hell, your muscles sore, and all your joints will be ruined. Just think how beautiful they will look all bleached and on display in an anatomy lab.

I finally found a way to get into Harvard, ma--C-Boy out!

My spirit animal is a bull moose (pay attention to the linkys--they are the best part!)

I don't rightly know how in the hell I came to that conclusion, but I did. Who knows anything about anything? My neighbor George does and we are all sick of it. He better watch his back.

I had a rough night last night, and we all know what that means to a man who just came out as a bedosexual last year. I have got to find out how to not shake like an unbalanced washing machine during the night without looking like little Randy Parker from "A Christmas Story". I bought a great new pillow, knit cap, and dug out my Newcastle United "Magpies" scarf--it takes me right back to those crazy gallows gate nights. I just lay back and sing "The fog on the Tyne is all mine all mine..." until I fall asleep with dreams of a pastel Whitley Bay.

Now that's enough of the linky linky, I believe. If I do anymore I just might sprain my html ligament. It's the same ligament used for one-handed typing, you know. We all can relate to that sort of need.

Back to the moose: So, I spent my first day of "vacation" today up in the mountains. Mind you, I've had to adjust what my vacation is, due to obvious reasons. Anyway, my sister and I drove up to a lake to chill out and take in some Motha Nacho. Seriously, that is Mother Nature's street name. Okay, I just made that one up today. Anyway, It was there that I came within a dozen feet of my spirit animal. Read the title again. There, that wasn't so hard, now was it?

Why the moose? Shit, I don't know. Usually, these animals are mean as a gonorrhea drip and twice as unpleasant if you happen to breathe on them the wrong way. Moose kill more people than grizzly bears or mountain lions. Think of that next time you are thinking of putting a pine cone on one's head and taking a picture of it (Yellowstone Boy Scout Camp, 1989). They are a bit solitary and I don't know if that is a good thing for me right now, but they are strong.

What it was, I believe, was the twenty minutes of sitting on a rock right next to it while it was eating. I coughed and it would then grumble back. He gave me that look like, "I fuckin' kill ya, boyo! But, you ain't a'troublin' me none. Go ahead an' sit on that rock." So, I am not a moose, but that is the kind of animal that I want to channel spiritually.

Well, maybe it wasn't the moose. It could have been that squirrel with the huge nuts.

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): When PETA and Benetton join forces

It certainly is ridiculous, but it is more than that: This is TIGF!!! You know what? I dig it. I'm thinking that all they need to really make this photo super TIGF is a ferret playing a djembe drum while wearing an African dashiki and a kufi on it's head. Ah, the united colors of TIGF!!!

I hope that I'm not alone on this one.

Killing time again: featuring a brief public statement.

My cable is out and I am really not happy about that.

What did the elephant say to the naked man? How in the hell do you breathe out of that thing?

Anybody own a bad motor scooter? (Check out the Montrose video w/Sammy Hagar on the sidebar).

Today I felt pretty good despite my health. I have cancer, Hodgkin's Lymphoma to be exact. I just found out on Monday. I've been rather poorly for almost two months. Thought I'd slip that one in instead of making a big deal out of it here. I debated whether I should announce that here this soon. I will find out next week what stage it is in and begin my treatment. I will do a proper post on this later when I have more information regarding my disease. I didn't want to let the remainder of you hang any longer.

I've got to write this paragraph to conceal the prior one. I figure that casual visitors will just blow past the other paragraph. More to come.

Anyway, I am just happy to be here, alive, and just a jaunt through hell back to well.

Randomorama

Why is it that you can feel some people more when they are gone than when they are around you?

Which level of Dante's hell do they shove Brillo pads up into your asshole and light them on fire?

If you say "new direction" long and hard enough, something funny starts to happen.

Which level of Dante's hell does Mark Twain have to start writing children's books? Cook books by Milton, anyone?

I will not stand for such suffering. Here, let me bend over.

The farmer said to the milk maid, "Nice tits!"

So, did they ever find out if Elliott Smith was stabbed by his girlfriend? That would be a hell of a way to kill yourself. By the way, "Between the Bars" is now playing on my I-Tunes.

Pablo Picasso should've done one more painting.

Antarctica is the white supremest of all the continents of the world. Don't let the cute penguins fool you.

Llamas bring joy to a little boy named Billy; which, unfortunately, will result in him developing a rather disturbing sexual phillia. These are the unseen and adverse effects of animal therapy.

Overheard in a rest home: "But, their fur is so silky soft!"

Where you go with that one might take you into a bad place.

I am finished for the night.

Good Eberling!

Well

Keep tuned my friends. I am waiting to get more information first before I go public.

As for whether I'd be Superman or a billionaire. Well, I'm all about x-ray vision and hitting on cute journalists. Plus, I'd already have my own fortress of solitude. Oh, and super friends! Really, though, I have a part of me that likes rescuing people, so yeah, that's a total turn on for me. Plus, I think Superman's farts must have special powers too, so I'd like to find out what those would be.

I guess both Superman and a billionaire wear capes, at least I think billionaires wear them.

One simple question...

Which would you rather be: Superman(woman) or a billionaire? Why?

I'm not going to answer just yet, so as not to influence your responses.

Oh yeah, I've been healing up well and getting lots of rest. Things will work out, I'm positive. I want to say that having all of you comment here and show your support to me has really had a positive effect on me during this time.

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): Pain, anxiety, and my unruly meatwad now in exile

Hola, gruntonians! It's your pal Grunty. I am in ridiculous pain right now. Why? Because, on Wednesday I had a lymph node the size of a golf ball removed from my neck/shoulder area. They had to go in deep to get the sucker out.

I got to eat popcorn while I watched the show. I was only given local anesthesia, so I was treated to all the fun sounds and sensations that one gets with that sort of thing. I had nerves get hit four times during the surgery and one time my leg shot straight up from the pain. I will find out next week if I am infested with the evil C word--well, if I have lymphoma. It will seem for a time that everybody's talking at me about this and it will be a bit of a pain to explain it everytime to each person.

Fear not. Don't cry for me, Gruntonia. No need to jump off of a cliff for my sake. Whatever happens happens. If it turns out to be nothing, then I will dance a dance of joy and celebration. If it is lymphoma, then I will put on my game face, go through the treatment, and kick this son of a bitches ass! Somewhere along the way I plan on getting felt up by a nurse or two.

I must tell you, a very strange thing happened when they pulled out the lymph node. I could've sworn I heard a voice say something when the doctor started cutting out the node, (with a Brooklyn streetwise tone): "Hey, I'm mutating here! I'm mutating heeeeere!" Then I heard the doc swear that this thing gave him the fangul. It was from there that we decided to name the little guy Ratso.
Ratso is now entertaining conning some medical lab technician out of twenty bucks so he can make it down to Miami, 'cause he said, "I ain't going to no Bellvue!" Where's Joe Buck when you need him?

Talk amongst yourselves. Oh, and yes, the TIGF is there if you follow the links.

Dream #465870

I went to bed running a fever. I knew that if I could remember what I dreamed it would be a pretty far out thing to share with y'all. Well, this is definitely a case of "I Had Too Much To Dream Last Night". Here we go.

The part that I remember was vivid. I was driving down the road and I saw a mother having problems pushing her baby in a stroller. I pulled over and got out to help her. When I got there I asked her what the problem was. She said, "My baby isn't working and I don't know what to do."

I looked around the stroller, then at the baby. I don't know what in the hell brought on the next series of events, but whatever. I told her that the baby's choke wasn't on and then I reached in and turned the little guy's belly button over to "choke". I then said, "Go ahead, try it!" The mother then reached in and pulled on a rip cord and the baby started right up. She thanked me and the baby was all vibrating and making a noise like a lawn mower. It all seemed normal while I was dreaming it.

I guess this means that I am good with kids.

I'm stocking up on marshmallows

Well, unless you have just fallen off the turnip truck, you'd know that Cap'n Grunt makes his home in the arid state of Utah. Right now the total square mile area that is on fire in this state is about the size of the state of New York. The air quality has a smokey quality to it and I can barely see the freaking big-ass mountain range that I live on. No fires are near where I live, but the lower 2/3rds of the state are turning into Kingsford briquettes as we speak.

In case any of you readers have the desire, there is a shortage of wilderness fire fighters. So, there's your call for adventure, high risk, and low pay. Oh, and I hear the ham sandwiches are to die for.

The biggest fire in our state has only 109 fire fighters working it. This fire has consumed an area larger than the Salt Lake Valley. Of those who know how big this area is, can you imagine what only 109 people could do in an area this big, this rugged, and on fire could do?

Needless to say that someone (me) who has had an infected respiratory system is not enjoying the current air quality. I will just deal with it and try to stay indoors.

I am just waiting for some dipshit to light the mountains where I live on fire. It seems to happen every year. Some brainless kid will go up in the dry brush and decide that it is a great place to lay down some cover with "smoke grenades" while playing paint ball. There was a kid just a couple of years ago that did this with smoke bombs. Lit a whole mountain on fire. Guess what? His parents got a six-figure bill for the fire fighting expenses. It actually cost much more than that to fight the fire.

It gets even better. A homeless man burned a stretch of three mountain sides right behind where I live. He just wanted a place to stay during the holidays and figured that starting a small fire would only put him in jail for about 8 months. Oh, he got a place to stay alright: a fuck me up the ass state prison, not a cozy county jail. I still have to look at blackened forests whenever I go up my favorite local canyon. A bunch of dumb asses is what these people are that start these fires. However, living here you know that natural fires just happen.

On the plus side: FUCKIN' S'MORES DUDE!!!

P.S. I finally did something with one of my neglected step blogs. Go to "Grunty's Blogs" on the sidebar, or whatever in the hell it says, and check out "I'm Bill Gates, Bitch!" I know I'm ripping off Dave Chappelle a bit there, so cram it.

Shameless baby photos of Little Gruntie

Check me out in the first frame (left). I was already reading at an eigth grade level. I believe I was reading "Catcher in the Rye". The coming of age adventures of Holden Caufield and his hunter's cap had me riveted. Plus, I got to learn a bunch of swear words that were really bad in the '50s.

In the second frame I'm just jazzed as shit about my freaky yellow teddy bear. It's good to have friends. However, that was one nasty breakup between the both of us. I ended up having to leave him for an Evel Knievel doll and toy motorcycle. That didn't last long because Han Solo really had the right stuff.

In this last photo I was calling all the hot girl babies I could, trying to get as many naked baby photo sessions with them as possible and play a little doctor. Somewhere along the way my family's strict religious beliefs messed all that natural born playa I had in me. I'm slowly recovering.

For fun, in addition to whatever comments you'd like to make, try your hand at making a caption for each of the photos above. It will cheer a guy up who's about to go under the knife.

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): I love technology

Strap me down. This schematic for a digital theremin device gets me so hot. I want to play with my NAND gate until my VCO oscillates uncontrollably. I want to overload my quad operational amplifiers until they distort from being way too over driven (some geek will then point out that there are no quad op-amps in this schematic--douche bags). I want to tweak the pitch until it squeals in ecstasy, whooooooo-wheeeeeeee-whooooooo!

What gets you all techno TIGF hot?

Heavy Petting

I was in a line at a restaurant today looking at all of the different people waiting to order their food. I was looking at this elderly man and to me he looked like a fluffy dog. The thought came across my mind that, if I could, I'd pat him on the head until he started smiling and panting. Nothing sexual, I just wanted to say, "Who's a good boy?" and then balance a Milk Bone on his nose. Am I the only one here that has had this kind of thought?

Let's face it: some people look more like animals than proper human beings. That's nothing new. However, there are some people that take on the form of fluffy, loveable pets. Yes, I am weird, but you already knew that. Yet, you still keep on coming here--blame yourselves for all of this enabling.

I was pretty amused by my thought until I realized that one had to still respect normal human rights and laws. You just can't go around petting people and making them chase sticks, yet somehow we think it is hilarious to do that to animals. Even more disturbing is that the thought of a person, seeming to be a pet, being at one time a kitten or puppy. This got me thinking about what kind of sick things we do to kittens and puppies, feeling them up and such. Where are the laws protecting them from perverts who want to cuddle them all over? Are we all just inter-special pedophiles?

I think I carried this thread a bit too far. Is it still not too late to forget that this ever happened?

Here's to a new day (a fave clip from "Easy Rider")

Try it. It's fun!

Njeeek! Njeeek! Njeeek!